


a thousand bad times

by wonderlandz



Category: Formula 1 RPF, Motorsport RPF
Genre: 2020 Season, Body Shots, Drinking, Friends With Benefits, Light Angst, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:47:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27538588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wonderlandz/pseuds/wonderlandz
Summary: he never gets the lime, because george's mouth is on his and all alex can taste is him mixed with the alcohol and he's not sure which taste is making him dizzier.
Relationships: Alexander Albon/George Russell
Comments: 5
Kudos: 49





	a thousand bad times

alex sits at the table and contemplates his order of pork and chips, and a tequila with lime. his skin feels tense and dry under the cold light of the hotel cantina and he decides that he likes it that way. anything that helps hide the pain on his face is fine with him.

the tequila comes and he slams it back, closing his eyes and letting it burn his throat before he sucks on the lime, the tart juice bursting on his tongue. he wants to savor it, because he knows that he'll have no choice but to face his problems and shitty performance with his shitty team principal soon.

he hears the creak of the chair across from him and looks up. he’s wearing a mask but nothing will hide those eyes that crinkle when he smiles, blue like the sky that's darkening on the window in front of him.

"did you order me one?" george asks, their hands brushing as he reaches for the salt.

without speaking, he pushes the other shot glass across the table, a silent challenge. george takes his mask off and his lips quirk up with a smile, so rare to actually see it these days that alex reels in it, not wanting to forget it. 

he gasps when he suddenly feels george's tongue, hot and wet, swipe over the inside of his wrist and a tingle rushes over his skin as the salt follows, spilling onto the table top. another lick and he can't help but stare at the line of his throat as he swallows, wanting to tattoo the image into his brain. 

alex holds out the lime for him, and then the tips of his fingers disappear into george's mouth and he sucks, looking at him in the eyes. dinner is suddenly the last thing on alex’s mind.

deliberately, alex slips the salt shaker into his pocket and george grabs a few slices of lime from the bowl in front of him. alex drops a ten euro bill on the table before he takes the alcohol bottle and heads upstairs, george's hand heavy and warm in his.

the hallway is narrow and dim, and the sounds of other people doing exactly what they are about to do trickles out through the walls, ringing loud in alex’s ears.

he feels george squeeze his hand slightly and they share an unspoken, knowing giggle. george’s room isn't as big as alex’s usually are, and it's not warm and inviting like what they're used to, but it's as far from alex’s haunting blue and red motorhome as you can get.

they don't turn on the lights, letting the moonlight filter in through the stained, heavy curtains. a whisper behind alex causes him to look up, and suddenly his reflection shows tan skin and dark black hair, a shine in his eyes that wasn't there before.

in the mirror he also watches george pull his shirt over his head, awkwardness long replaced by an easy grace. alex envies him, for being that comfortable in his own skin. but of course, being on the edge constantly keeps alex from being comfortable in general.

tugging his own sweater off and tossing it onto one of the chairs, he turns around. in this light, the angles of george's body are sharp and glowing in front of him. alex takes a step forward and leans his head on george's shoulder, breathing in the smell of skin, sweat, soap, and something else, something he can’t put his finger on but definitely home.

alex’s tongue darts out, tracing a long, wet line over a sharp collarbone and he feels george's hand grasp at his hip. with a flick of alex’s wrist, the salt goes down george’s abs and he changes his direction, catching each grain with a contented hum. the tequila still burns his throat, but now the burn spreads down his torso and across his hip to where george's fingers are digging in, leaving bruises that he'll stare at in the mirror days later.

he never gets the lime, because george's mouth is on his and all alex can taste is him mixed with the alcohol and he's not sure which taste is making him dizzier. 

the back of alex’s knees hit the bed and he manages to keep a hold of the bottle, barely. george's moving now, hot breath on his ear and hips pinning him to the hard mattress. he lets go of the bottle and tries not to squirm as george tips it a little on his skin, the liquid pooling there for a split second before he laps it up with his warm tongue before biting down on his firm stomach, leaving alex clutching at the sheets.

fingers slide over his ribs, down his side and under the waist of his jeans, but not quite close enough, and when a strangled moan escapes his mouth, george smiles. it's a lazy, warm smile that makes him think of spending time in his backyard together during the summer when they were still fighting for a title, however many years ago that was. 

the feel of george's tongue on his navel yanks alex back to the present. the bottle pressed against his side tilts when he tries to shift his hips and get george lower. tequila splashes across his stomach and the smile changes to a wicked grin as he catches all the stray drops, fingers undoing his zipper at the same time. he hears glass shattering against the grainy wood floor but he can't force himself to care.

he takes a slow breath as george wraps a hand around him, twisting his wrist as he strokes up and down. squeezing his eyes shut, alex lets the sensation wash over him, every nerve tingling when he feels the wet heat of george's mouth. his hips thrust up and he tangles his fingers in soft hair, letting words slip from his mouth. words like  _ please _ ,  _ again _ ,  _ more _ ,  _ need _ ,  _ love _ , words he hardly ever thinks about, let alone says anymore.

there's fire curling in his veins and he can feel how close he is when george stops and slides back up his body, mouth on his and their hands both pulling off the last of the clothes between them. he bites down on george’s mouth and hisses as their skin touches, the feeling is almost overwhelming his senses. 

george's long fingers are moving down again, over his hip, down the crease of his thigh, just past the heat between his legs, and he whispers so softly alex almost doesn't hear it when he says “let me take care of you,” and “i love you.”

then george's fingers are there, stretching and stroking him until he can slide inside, and he can't feel anything but heat and pleasure or taste anything but lime and salt and george in his mouth and the fire is burning, so high he thinks it might burn right through his lungs. 

on top of him, george is moving faster, harder, the hand on him gives a last slow stroke and lets go, he comes so hard he sees stars when he presses his eyes together. george is right behind him, muscles tensing and uncoiling again and one last praise.

more soft whispers clean up the mess on the bed and the bottle on the floor and he feels the steady, even breathing behind him as hands are wrapped around his waist and pull him closer to a warm chest that invites him like nothing ever has. alex sleeps soundly for the first time in months.


End file.
